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Christmas Eve on Hogsmeade | ||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley Genres: Comedy, General, Humor Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 13 Summary: Christmas Eve, a few years after Hogwarts... Hitcount: Story Total: 4945 |
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With tons of help, inspiration, and "funnies" by Ada This fic is dedicated to all the poor Muggles out there who, as Emmyjean and I know all too well, have to work in any kind of store during the holidays. May you still find the joys of Christmas in the midst of absolute HELL. We try to. Christmas Eve, a few years after Hogwarts… "What are you so nervous about?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron. "I'm not nervous, Ron, I'm just a little anxious that’s all. I've never worked in a proper shop before, I hope we do well," she said as she pulled her cloak tighter around her and continued walking down the High Street, her arm tucked through his. The snow was coming down in little flakes and it lay over Hogsmeade like a pretty white blanket. "Proper?" he asked incredulously. "Never knew Fred and George do anything “proper!” "What do you call it, then?" Ron shrugged. "A big joke… loads of fun?" "Ron," she said patronizingly. "Think of all the times you've been Christmas shopping–the stores are manic, with crowds of people all wanting the same thing: to get what they need as quickly as possible. We are going to be the ones who have to serve those people." "Come on, Hermione, it isn’t going to be that bad. Look, I've met an Acromantula, by comparison Christmas shoppers should be a doddle." Ron saw Hermione roll her eyes, but she didn’t say anything and very wisely he chose not to either. They had been getting on very well lately and Ron didn't want to do anything to spoil it. In fact, Ron was having a particularly wonderful time with a particularly wonderful secret he was keeping from her and he couldn’t wait until Christmas to tell her… or ask her… to be precise. They arrived at the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and pushed their way through the Ever-Revolving doors, spinning round five times before finally managing to stumble inside. Immediately Ron grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and kissed her full on the mouth. "Ron, what are you doing?!" she exclaimed when he pulled back; Ron was staring at her in confusion. "Hermione, I–" Then he spotted it. Floating about two feet to the left of his head, sparkling with red and green dust, was a bunch of mistletoe. Hermione followed his gaze. "Oh, honestly… enchanting the mistletoe," she tsked, but her eyes were bright and her cheeks were rosy, as they always were when he kissed her and Ron had a sudden urge to drag her over to where the mistletoe had floated; but right on cue, a door in the corner burst open and Fred appeared looking frantic. "There you are, what took you so long?" "'Thanks, Ron and Hermione, for coming in to help out at such short notice'," Ron said sarcastically. "I don’t need to thank you, it's your brotherly–and sisterly– duty." Hermione flushed with happiness at being called a sister, but Ron raised his eyes and then glanced around the shop. "What do we do first? It's not even busy." "It's not… yet. Things will start to pick up round midday, and George and I can't be up here–there's, er, a slight problem downstairs in the lab"– this was punctuated with a loud BANG from beneath the floorboards–"and we have to take care of it straight away. That leaves you two in charge up here." Fred walked to the counter and hopped over it. "All right, this is the gold till–" "Really?" Ron interrupted dryly, as he and Hermione huddled behind the counter, peering at the till. "Shut up, you prat. Now, this is how it works." Fred pressed an array of noisy buttons, pulled a long handle and tapped his wand several times before a drawer filled with Gold Galleons, Silver Sickles and Bronze Knuts sprang open. "Okay, now for the gift wrapping." "Wait!" Hermione cried. "Can you show us how the till works again?" "FRED! IT'S GETTING UGLY DOWN HERE!" These words seemed to echo from below and were followed by another bang, a series of explosive noises and a rooster's crow. Fred's eyes darted nervously to the door. Oddly enough the few customers paid no attention–and Ron realized they were probably used to this sort of thing. "Okay, gift wrapping," Fred said in a rush. "FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED!" "Argh! You’ll have to sort it out on your own! Got to go!" He darted through the door and they caught a final glimpse of him tearing full tilt down the rickety wooden stairs before the door closed with a resounding crash. Hermione and Ron stared open-mouthed at each other. "Excuse me." They both jumped and turned to see a witch piling small boxes onto the counter. "I'd like these three things, please," she said to Ron. Ron stared at the witch as if she'd sprouted turnips for ears, then looked doubtfully at the till. "Let me help you, madam," Hermione said politely, shooting Ron a look of disdain, and shoving him out of the way. She carefully took one of the packages and turned it over in her hand, spotted some sort of number on it and typed it into the till. She did the same thing with the next two packages, then peered at the little keys, typed something else, pulled the handle, tapped her wand and ding – the drawer shot open. "That will be eight Galleons and seven Sickles, please." The witch handed Hermione some coins and they exchanged pleasant smiles as the correct change was returned. Ron didn't know whether he should be proud or annoyed that Hermione had worked out how to use the till so quickly; he didn’t have long to wonder about it, however, because Hermione thrust the packages at him, said, "gift wrap them," and moved onto the next customer. Gift wrap? Ron looked hesitantly at the large stack of wrapping parchment and a box of ribbons and bows, which seemed to be vibrating. He pulled a face, heaved a resigned sigh and then flexed his shoulders in preparation. He took the smallest box and placed it atop the stack of parchment, which, the moment he set the package down, started changing colors. He did the best he could, using a Sticky Charm and lots of spello-tape to keep the wrapping together; then he reached into the box of ribbons and pulled out a long gold, sparkling strand with a bow in the middle. At once, the bow formed a mouth and start making odd noises–burping noises. It took a minute for Ron to realize that the bow was actually burping Jingle Bells as he struggled to tie the ribbon round the package. "Thank you, and have a very Happy Christmas," Hermione was saying politely. Ron glanced over and saw that she was on her fourth customer by now, smiling and chatting happily with them. The three customers she'd taken care of, however, were all standing in a queue in front of him, holding a range of packages and looking decidedly irate. They were obviously waiting for Ron to wrap for them. He heaved another sigh; so much for Christmas spirit. "Here you go," he said to the first witch, handing over her packages, which she studied with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips. "If you don’t like it, wrap it yourself," Ron muttered under his breath, earning a deep frown from the next customer, a warlock who looked like he might hex him if the mood struck. Clearing his throat, Ron took greater care with the warlock's package, choosing a bow that did not burp, and forcing a smile. "Thank you… er, sir," he said, eyeing him nervously. The warlock peered at Ron for a few seconds before lifting the parcel and walking away. Ron let out an audible breath of relief, but jumped as pain radiated through his arm. Hermione had thumped him, hard. "What are you doing?” she hissed out of the corner of her mouth. “You have to keep up!” "I'm no good at this sort of thing," he said, wondering what to do with a bit of parchment that persisted in sticking out from the box of Canary Creams he was currently wrapping. He plied some spello-tape over it and handed it to the customer. "Next!" They spent the following few hours in the same manner, with Hermione expertly ringing up customers’ purchases and Ron half-heartedly wrapping the gifts. He improved slightly, but was working no faster, and the queue in front of him was always longer than Hermione's. But all in all they were handling everything fairly well. Until…. "Excuse me," said a kind looking elderly wizard with thick spectacles and long gray hair. "My grandson wanted a particular item which turns chocolate into imitation gold. What is it called and where can I find it?" Hermione looked at Ron questioningly, and Ron was about to say that he didn’t have any bloody idea what it was or where it could be found, when Hermione pulled him aside. "I have no idea what it is," he muttered to Hermione, omitting the swear word with difficulty. Why couldn’t this bloke just find it for himself? Couldn’t he see that they were busy? "I know–I saw the look on your face. Why don’t you help him find it, Ron? I can manage the wrapping as well for now." "I’d like to tell him to bugger off and look–" "You can't!" "Well, what do we look like, an information desk?" "Ron, you can’t be rude to him, that gold thing sounds like it might be expensive! Go and look for it, it can’t be that difficult to find." He was about to protest again when Hermione's eyes went very hard and she fixed him with that McGonagall glare which never failed to frighten him, even now when he was long out of school. "Fine, I'll do it!" Being behind the till in the midst of all the fraught Christmas shoppers was one thing; being on the shop floor amongst them was quite another. The minute the customers realized Ron was helping the wizard find something, they swarmed around him. "Where is the game section?" "Do you know where I can find the Imitation Wands?" "Can you check if you’ve any more boxes of Peacock Tarts in stock?" "Last year, I bought a pair of socks which gets bigger by the hour, do you still have them?" "Hey, I was first. My ‘chocolate into gold’ thing, please?" "I want candy!" The source of this voice came from Ron's knees and he looked down to see a small boy, hands on hips, and a huge pout formed on his lips, staring up at him. Ron had the sudden urge to lift the boy up and hug him to death for such a simple request, but instead, he reached onto a high shelf and pulled out a peppermint sugar quill. "There you are." He didn’t see Hermione smile at his back from behind the register, but he did watch with satisfaction as the boy tore off the plastic and licked the sugar quill. But then– "BLAH! I HATE this flavor! And I hate YOU!" And the quill was flung against the wall, shattering into a million pieces of red and white sugar. But that wasn't the end of it. Ron hadn’t really given much thought to the matter, but the minute it happened, he knew it should have occurred to him how odd it was for Fred and George to be selling normal sugar quills. Oh, no, he thought to himself, as the boy's eyes started to widen in panic. Ron snapped his head round to look at the jar of sugar quills and his mouth dropped open as he read the label. "WWW Magical Levitating Quills–no difference in appearance or taste–fool your friends–send them up, up and awaaaaay!" Ron whirled back towards the boy, who had started to lift off the floor. "MUMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYY!!!" "Ron!" Hermione shrieked. Everyone in the shop stopped what they were doing and stared as the boy rose higher and higher. "Move, get out of my way!" a young witch was pushing her way through the crowd and when she saw the floating little boy, she covered her face in her hands. "DEVIN! Come down here this INSTANT!" "MUMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYY!!!" Devin sobbed, as he floated towards a shelf stacked with boxes of rubber wands. His tears stopped as soon as he saw where he was, and he grabbed a wand from an open box, banged it against the ceiling. Hermione took out her wand and brought Devin gently back down; his mother slapped his hand, promised him that Father Christmas would most certainly not be coming this year, and dragged a once more screaming Devin out of the store. Ron tried to insist that it was his fault, that he had given Devin the sugar quill by mistake, but the witch obviously didn’t care, yelling back at Ron that this was the third shop in which Devin had managed to find his way to the ceiling. After that incident, Ron stood in the middle of the hoards of people, many of whom were now climbing over each other to get to the shelf of Levitating Sugar Quills, scratching his head and wondering what in the world to do next, when a rather tetchy voice said in a clipped tone, "Excuse me? The item that turns chocolate into gold?" Ron stared at the wizard; he had completely forgotten about him in all the confusion. He shook his head. "Sorry. So sorry… er…." Then he spotted the rickety door Fred had disappeared behind. "Excuse me for just a moment; I’ll see if we have it in the back." And he dashed behind the door. Adjusting his eyes to the dim light, Ron noticed a very narrow staircase, with signs floating along the walls that said things like, "ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK," and "RUN! NOW!" and "You have reached the end of your luck, please go back and spare yourself." Ron ignored them all and clambered cautiously down the stairs, holding onto a handrail that was suspiciously sticky. "OI! What in bloody hell are you two doing–" he yelled into the gloom below; then he stopped. He had reached a landing and his mouth dropped open at what he saw. The mess… the chaos… the noise… it was everywhere. Smoke… destruction… huge machinery going haywire … chocolate dripping from the walls… some kind of feathers…open cages… ear-splitting noises… and smells that were foreign even to him. Ron staggered and tried to find something constructive to say. Suddenly George, his hair sticking up in burnt spikes, came dashing onto the landing from the lab and started pulling Ron, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, back up the stairs. "What is it Ron? Everything all right up there?" then George hiccupped, turned into a toad, and instantly back again, without missing a beat, “What is it?” Ron shut his mouth with a snap and put a hand to his temple. George hiccupped again, transformed again and transformed back. Rod shook his head vigorously to clear it. He couldn’t reflect on his brother’s er… condition right now… it would drive him mad. "Er… something that changes chocolate into imitation gold?" he managed weakly. The foul smells were still wafting under his nose and making him dizzy. "Leprrrrechaun Dust?" Fred asked, coming hurriedly up the stairs from the direction of the cellar. "We've been out since the twenty-firrrrst. It'll be available afterrrrr the new yearrrr." "Okay," Ron managed, then ducked as an explosion of blue flame erupted from the direction of the lab. "Chuffing hell George! Is everything…?" "All underrrr contrrrol," Fred said, and Ron peered at him oddly. Was it just him or did Fred seem to be rolling all his 'r's? "Are you okay?" "Surrre. It's all underrrr contrrrrrol." “Ribbit,” echoed George. Ron pointedly ignored George the toad and kept his eyes on Fred, "Why are you talking like that?" "Get back up therrre, how darrre you leave Herrrrrrrrmione to worrrk alone?" "Mum will kill you if you're not both normal for Christmas tomorrow," Ron muttered and casting them both an incredulous look, he shook his head at them and dashed back up the stairs. When he emerged, the place looked even more packed with people (he swore he could even spot a few goblins) and Ron was gazing around, trying to find the customer he was dealing with, when a huge waft of perfume assaulted his nose. He almost stumbled as a witch in a black fur cloak and hat pushed up against him. "Where are the Irish Brogue Balls?" she purred. "What?" he asked, feeling suddenly decidedly warm. "The sweet that gives the eater an Irish Brogue," she said huskily. "I give them to my husband after dinner every night." "Third shelf to the right in the confectionary aisle," came Hermione's crisp voice. Ron looked over to see that she was still behind the till, and that she must have charmed the parchment because it was busy wrapping boxes all by itself. He barely had time to admire that she was the most brilliant witch in the whole world, when the fur-clad witch squeezed his arm deliberately. "Thank you, you are a love." Ron looked around distractedly for a minute, then turned back to Hermione, whose eyes were now shooting daggers and looked like she was about to explode. "What did I do NOW?" he shouted, but it was droned out by the noise of the crowd. "Can you please help me, I have no idea what to buy my nine year old!" "Where are those sweets which give you a lightning scar like Harry Potter's?" "There's a cheese that will turn mice into acrobats, I use it every year to entertain my guests and everyone's expecting it." "Do you have something that will enlarge my wife's–" "WILLIAM!" "Where is that perfume that grows hair wherever you put it?" "I’ve got Muggles coming to dinner, MUGGLES, I have to be home in time to tie up the ghoul!" "I was first, get out of the way!" "SHUT UP!" Ron bellowed, and sighed with satisfaction as the raised voices lowered to nothing at his outburst. He heard Hermione say, "Ron," but he ignored her. "Look, I'm trying all right?" he snapped at everyone. "I'm bloody well trying, so everyone CALM THE HELL DOWN and wait your turn!" And then he saw it. Floating above the front door to the shop… it was a light in the darkness… the number '10' hovering in orange smoke and next to it, a life-size ceramic centaur with a clown's face… and little pieces of paper sticking out of its mouth… it was a customer number system. A satisfied and relieved smile appeared on his face. "Will everyone please take a number?" he said, pointing up at the centaur, feeling immense pride at himself for noticing it just in time. He turned to Hermione, who was beaming at him proudly now and Ron knew that was why Hermione loved him–he was a genius too, in his own way. Grinning, Ron turned to look at all the customers who were rushing to take numbers from the centaur's mouth. "Number ten?" he called. "Right here!" called a wizard with a mustache. "Can I help you, sir?" Ron asked. "Wait a minute, I was here before he was!" Ron turned to see a red-faced witch waving a handful of shopping bags at him. Ron felt a nerve in his jaw begin to tick. "I'm sorry ma’am, but we are dealing with customers in number order now. This way everyone will get served fairly." "I don’t care about everyone else, I was here before him, I'm number ten!" The witch dropped her bags and made a frantic grab for the number in the mustached wizard's hand. "Hey! Look, you hag," spat the wizard. "Hag?! HAG?!" she shouted. “Right!” Looking frantically around, she yanked a glass jar filled with some sort of green powder from a nearby display table and threw it at the man’s face. Everyone screamed and ducked, including the man, except for Ron. The jar crashed against the centaur and the green powder exploded in Ron's face. The customers began shrieking; the woman raced out of the door at top speed, the mustached man following closely behind. Ron, ignoring the madness, walked over to the display table and picked up a jar of the stuff that covered him from head to toe. It read, "Elf Earth." Elf Earth? "Oh, Ron." It was Hermione. She'd come to see what the commotion was all about and was biting her lip, trying not to laugh. "What is it… don’t tell me…." With a small giggle, in the midst of the noise and confusion, she dragged him to a full-length mirror and turned him to face it. There he was, covered from head to toe in sparkling green dust… with huge pointed ears sticking out from under his hair. "Counter-curse," he said reflexively. "Now, Hermione!" But her eyes were filled with laughter and mischief. "I don’t want to." Ron felt a huge tug at his heart. The sparkle in her eyes made it all worth it. "Hermione," he said threateningly, taking a step closer to her. The customers were still milling about, some pushing each other, others continuing to call out questions to him, but Ron ignored them all. "Take that wand out of your pocket," he said, keeping eye-contact with her and nudging her hip. She slapped his hand and tried to hide her grin, her eyes darting to the counter for a getaway. "And perform a counter-curse. You know I don’t have mine with me." "No. It's too cute," she said, giggling still. "I've got customers, now, bye!" And she rushed back to her place behind the till. Ron watched her go, imagining what he could do to her later on when there were no customers left, but as said customers were still trying, with all their might to buy things, and they couldn’t do that without his help, he had to shove the thought aside. Then he had a sudden idea. "QUIET PLEASE!" Everyone jumped and the place was, miraculously and suddenly, quiet. "I want to thank you all for your patience. However, we MUST use this number system to ensure everyone is helped in order. So please, take a number and we will get to you as soon as we can. We hope you will all enjoy a free Levitating Sugar Quill for any inconvenience you have been caused. Thank you!" There was a murmur of approval throughout the crowd, and Ron seized the moment to yell, "Eleven! Does anyone have number eleven?" "I do!" "Wonderful. What can I do for you, sir?" The day wore on. Hermione continued to man the till while Ron helped customers find things they were looking for. Once he got the hang of it, he found it very easy since he's been inside Weasley's Wizard Wheezes hundreds of times, and knew where most of the inventory was. When something seemed impossible to find, he simply chose to lie and say they were out of stock. Around late afternoon, things started to die down a bit. Fred and George had poked their heads through briefly, just to reassure everyone that the noises they were about to hear were no cause for alarm; and just when Ron thought he was prepared for anything, Christmas carols began to play backwards throughout the entire building. It was easier to tolerate, though, because the customers were now dwindling in number and soon Ron actually found time to start cleaning up some of the mess they had made. He settled himself at a table of boxed sweets and rearranged the packages into neat stacks, listening comfortably to Hermione humming the tune of Silent Night backwards (they had memorized the tunes by now) and the mild chatter of the few people that still roamed round the shop. Looking up at one point, he stopped his tidying to smile at a little girl who was staring at him open-mouthed. "Mummy, it's a BIG elf! I've never seen one that big!" "Neither have I," said a dry, familiar voice. Ron turned, his brows raised, to find himself face to face with his best mate. "Shut it, will you? Where did you come from, anyway?" Harry smirked, his eyes tinged with laughter as he looked from one of Ron's ears to the other. "We’ve just had an early dinner and now we're Christmas shopping. Nice look, by the way." "I said shut it." "Stop arguing with the staff, Harry, we don’t want to get thrown out," said Ron's very own sister in a mock whisper, sidling up to them and looking perfectly happy and calm this Christmas Eve. Ron was about to demand why she wasn't here working, as it was the sisterly thing to do, when Ginny spoke again. "Can't leave you alone for a second, can I?" she asked Harry wryly, sliding her arm through his. Then she saw Ron. "Oh dear." Ron puffed out a breath and crossed his arms. "Don’t start, Ginny." "Oh, Ron… you must keep them for tomorrow. I'm completely serious!" "Shut up, Ginny." "Are you going to let him talk to me like that?" Ginny asked Harry, who shrugged his shoulders. "He's bigger than I am." "He's an elf." "Okay, that's it!" Ron jumped out of his seat and marched up to Hermione. "Counter-curse! Now!" "Oh, do stop acting like a child," she said soothingly, then turned to smile at her customer. "Happy Christmas! Thank you and visit again." Ron mimicked what she’d said, using a high pitched noise to the tune of her statement and Hermione reacted by tossing a belching bow at his head. She was a surprisingly good shot and it looped itself jauntily over one his pointy ears, emitting a loud burp in the process. "Well, we hate to miss all this fun, but we have an appointment with the Three Broomsticks for some Butterbeer and crumpets," said Ginny. Harry turned and grinned at her. "That sounds fantastic," he said happily. "Doesn’t it just?" Ginny smiled back at him. "You think you're really funny, the both of you," Ron grumbled, trying to remove the bow with little success. "Having a restful Christmas Eve, shopping, eating, drinking–" Ginny turned to Harry, her smile widening. "Shall we tell him about the snowball fight?" Ron was disconcerted to see Harry's face turning a very Christmassy red as he threw Ginny a look that Ron knew only too well–it was the look Hermione gave him whenever he threatened to talk about certain, er, private things in front of Harry. Ron raised his voice to drown out the images that came into his head, “While Hermione and I slave away…” Ron was pleased to see Ginny bite her lip and look slightly guilty, “Look, Ron I’m sorry, but we really can’t. We have to meet-“ Ron rolled his eyes and threw out his arms in disgust, “Oh that’s just great, JUST great.” Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, and pointed her finger at his nose, “Look, brother of mine, don’t get your ears in a twist.” Harry burst out laughing, but Ginny raised her voice to be heard, “This is the first time you’ve helped out at the shop in all its years of business, I’m in here every other week to fill in when the twins need help. So don’t you try to make me feel bad.” Ginny stopped abruptly, as if distracted, and stared up at Ron. “You know, those ears really do suit you, Ron.” "Oh! Can you bring me a butterbeer?" Hermione called out to them from the counter, interrupting the response, which was about to spill from him. "Anything for you, Hermione," Ginny said, sticking her tongue out at her brother. "Bye, Ron. See you later, I expect you’ll hear us coming!" "You’d better make it two beers!" he called after them, turning his attention back to the brightly colored packages on the table; however, when the doorbells failed to ring as they left, Ron glanced up again and groaned; that was enough to make anyone sick. "Get your HANDS off my sister, Potter, or I'll have to hex you." "Oh, Ron, be quiet," said Hermione. “And I’d like to see you try without your wand!” Harry and Ginny pulled back from each other, a slightly puzzled expression mirrored on both their faces; Ginny cleared her throat softly, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I didn’t mean to-er, do that," Harry’s eyes darted from Ginny to Ron; he sounded confused and a little worried. "Well, I'm not complaining," said Ginny, wiping green and red dust out of Harry's hair, making it stand on end. Ron smirked at that. "Nice look." "It was that damn mistletoe!" Harry said, and went to brush his fringe flat again; unfortunately, he was a little too slow. "Are you …you are! You’re Harry Potter!" exclaimed a twenty-something witch who was, Ron noted as his elf ears grew hot, very pretty. "Oh! Will you sign my Scar in a Jar, please? It's for my little brother, he'll just die if he knows I met you." "I, er, don't–well, if it’s for your little brother, I suppose I could–" "Harry Potter…." Went the murmurs around the shop, the buzz increasing and before Ron knew it, the place was packed again. Ron almost stomped his feet in protest; he cast a weary glance at Hermione, who was back in work mode, handling the till as if she'd had some kind of Speeding Charm cast on her and he groaned aloud as the queries started again. "Where can I find the Scar in a Jar?" "Is Harry Potter really having a signing here?" "Is it true that the Scar in a Jar is fifty percent off?" "Harry, will you sue Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for the use of your name on one of their products?" "Is Weasley's Wizard Wheezes closing down because of Harry Potter's legal action against them?" "Oh my goodness, is that Legolas?" Ginny had decided to take the situation into her own hands and was pointing towards Ron. She grabbed Harry's arm and started to tug him towards the entrance of the shop. The mob turned hopefully in Ron’s direction, leaving Harry and Ginny the precious few seconds they needed to get out of the door. Ron watched them enviously through the window as they headed across the street to The Three Broomsticks. "Will this day get any worse?" he grumbled. "My name is Ron Weasley!" he shouted to the crowd who was pushing in at him from all sides. "Not Lego–what was it that she called me?" There was a collective noise of disappointment from the group and most of the customers either filed out of the shop or Disapparated. Ron threw up his hands in disgust. "Sorry I'm such a disappointment!" he said loudly to the shop, which had practically emptied out. Hermione didn't have any customers so she leaned over the counter. "I think you're wonderful and brave." "You don’t count," he said gruffly, but his ear went even pinker at her very sudden proclamation Hermione reached out and tugged on the points of his ears before taking out her wand and tapping it to each one. "Finite Incantatem." Ron pressed the palms of his hands to his normal ears and sighed happily. "Thank you." "You welcome." She smiled at him and pulled back on a laugh as he leaned his head towards hers. "Do you know what time it is?" she asked, smiling that secretive smile. Ron grinned. "Time for a little… snogging?" She burst out laughing. "No… it's nearly six… and do you know what that means?" Ron's face lit up. "The shop closes at six." "Indeed it does." "Wow… time really flew, didn’t it?" "I suppose when you keep busy it does. I can’t wait for your Mum's dinner tomorrow… it's going to be so delicious." Their stomaches gave identical growls and they both laughed. "We can just close now… it's only thirty minutes early," Ron reasoned. "And then we can go across the street and get something to eat…." "No, we cannot." Ron switched tactics; if he couldn't have food, then he wanted a snog. "Okay, then, perhaps we can arrange it so that nobody wants to come in here." "Don’t even think about it," she said, giving him The Look as he hopped over the counter and started for her. "Ron, not now–perhaps when we close–no, not even then." "Hermione, you know you can’t resist me…." She crossed her arms. "Care to place a bet on that?" She giggled as he slid his arms around her, but didn’t move at all. "Stop." "I don’t believe you truly meant that." She sighed when he ran his hands up her back. He knew he had her. "No, I didn’t, did I?" Their grinning mouths were just about to touch when the doorbells chimed. "Oh, go away, will you?" Ron grumbled and Hermione squirmed away, muttering, 'Ron'. "Gladly," came Harry's voice sarcastically. They turned to see Ginny and Harry walking inside, holding a bag in which bottles seemed to be clinking. "We've brought you some food and we were planning to help you clean up a bit, so you can eat, but if you don’t want us here…" Ginny said innocently. "Don’t even think about going anywhere, start arranging those tables," Ron commanded her. "And give me food." "Watch out, Weasley," Harry warned. "That's my witch you're talking to." Ginny gasped. "So you've finally stood up for me!" She threw her arms around Harry's neck. "And he's not even an elf anymore," Harry said, gesturing to Ron's ears. Ginny planted a noisy kiss on Harry's cheek before turning to look at Ron. "I can’t believe you didn’t keep them. They were so cute." She walked over to a table and picked up the jar of green dust. "Now I know what to get you for Christmas." "Don't even think about it, unless you want to wake up one morning to find your own ears very cute." "Harry will just challenge you to a duel on my behalf, won't you, Harry?" Harry shrugged and examined a box filled with little cakes, which seemed to be bouncing around inside. "He doesn't seem too interested in defending your honor," Ron shot back, reaching into the bag they had brought and pulling out four butterbeers. "He'll do what I tell him and if I want him to kill you, he will. And you won’t stand a chance," Ginny retorted. "Oh, honestly, shut up, the both of you," groaned Hermione, and they all looked up in surprise. "I'm tired. My feet hurt, I've been standing at this… bloody till for nearly nine hours…." She came from behind the counter and kicked off her shoes, dragging a huge box to the center and plopping down on it. "I'm exhausted here, and I just want to have a nice, quiet, and relaxing evening. Do the quarreling siblings approve or not?" They all shared amused looks before Ginny went to put her arm round Hermione's shoulders. "Of course, we do. Here, lets lock the doors, already. It's nearly six." There were no protests from Hermione this time and they all pulled boxes towards Hermione's as Ron handed out the butterbeers. He raised his. "Happy Christmas, everyone." They all clinked the bottles together and took long gulps; it tasted like heaven to Ron who hadn’t had anything to eat or drink all day. He watched his sister out of the corner of his eye. "This tastes fantastic," Hermione muttered, taking another long swig and then stretching her limbs. But Ginny was frowning. "Mine tastes… strange…." "Strange how?" Harry asked. "I dunno," Ginny said, taking another sip. She held it out to Harry. "Does this taste normal to you?" Harry took a sip and Ron almost burst out laughing…this was too much … he tried to keep a straight face, he really did…. But all at once, he found himself spitting butterbeer all over and roaring with laughter as identical elf ears sprouted from both Harry's and Ginny's heads. FIN Merry Christmas! A note from Casca: Okay, the Legolas thing was put in by Ada as a joke and I just couldn’t take it out. Because I love him. So he stays. |
| Reviews 13 |
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